Vengeance (The Kurgan War Book 4) (15 page)

“What do you mean?”

“I used to work on this station, so it stands to reason that there are other intelligence agents spread throughout the base.”

“Well, that would be good news if you were supposed to be here and could call on them for assistance.”

“I’m already in trouble as it is. I think this is clearly a case of begging for forgiveness after the fact.”

Sheridan smiled. He was starting to like Elba’s determined attitude. “Do what you must. Cole and I will testify on your behalf at your court martial.”

“That’s not even the slightest bit funny.” With that, she turned on her heel and waved at a couple of men in rumpled red coveralls. “Say, would either of you ordnance boys know where I can get a drink?”

Sheridan shook his head and looked around for a map which would show him where the nearest elevators were. It didn’t take him long to find one on a nearby wall. Right next to it was a tall screen that alternated between recruiting posters and patriotic slogans asking the men and women on the station to work hard and keep the ADF in the fight. He saw the offices for the station’s personnel section were in the mid-section of the tower.
 

A couple of minutes later, he stepped out of the elevator and walked to the help desk. A large man with heavy jowls on his round face saw him approach and stopped typing.

“Can I help you, Sergeant?” asked the man, looking at the rank on Sheridan’s collar.

“Yes, I was at a bar last night and found a wallet on the floor belonging to someone named Bill. I was wondering if you might be able to help me find this person so I can return his wallet to him.”

“Sergeant, Bill is a fairly common name. Was there no other identification in the wallet to help identify this man?”

“None. A girl he was talking to gave me his name. The only things I found in the wallet were several credit cards with a lot of money on them. I’d feel really bad if I couldn’t return his wallet to him.”

The man pursed his lips as he brought up the installation’s personnel records. “I have dozens of people with the first name Bill along with William, Guillermo, and Liam, which are all derivatives of the name.”

Sheridan snapped his fingers. “He’s a new arrival. I was told by the girl he can’t have been here more than three or four days.”

“That somewhat narrows it down. I’ll print you out the names and pictures of the men who fit that description.”

A piece of paper shot out of the printer on a table behind the obese clerk. He turned his chair around, grabbed hold of the sheet, and handed it to Sheridan. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Sergeant?”

“No, you’ve been more than helpful,” he replied while his eyes examined the list of potential suspects. He walked back to the elevator, got in, and pressed the down button. He wanted a coffee and a place to sit down to read over the list in more detail. Already he was eliminating men who were too old or did not have the right skills to be a Chosen operative.

Cole was in his element as he moved through the busy loading and unloading docks chatting with the men and women as they worked. He had appropriated a tablet and pretended to be someone conducting a survey on morale. Although gruff when he needed to be, Cole was a gifted speaker, with a large repertoire of stories, who could just as easily socialize with a room full of young privates or four-star generals. The problem was he found himself spending too much time with each group. He saw that he would only make his way a third of the way around the outer ring before he had to link up with his friends. He decided to change his tact and speak only to the new arrivals to see how they were acclimating to working on the station.

An hour into his new routine, he came across a man called Bill who had just started work with the unloading section. Cole took him to one side and asked him a few perfunctory questions before moving on. Right away, he eliminated the man as a suspect. He was a nervous sort with a background in logistics. Cole was certain the man they were looking for was a former soldier or policeman who could handle himself in tight situations. He glanced down at his watch and hoped that his colleagues were having better luck than he was.

At a table in a dark corner of a bar Anne Elba pretended to sip her drink. She had already visited four other establishments and had yet to find anyone named Bill who had arrived in the past few days. Several drunk workers had tried hitting on her, but she rebuffed their advances with a smile and a free drink before moving along.

A man in pressed, white coveralls entered the bar and walked straight to Elba’s table. He was tall and rugged looking with short blonde hair. Without asking, he slid down on the bench beside Elba. He looked over at her with his dark blue eyes. A second later, he smiled. “Anne, it’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Sean,” replied Elba, wishing that they didn’t have to meet under such circumstances. On-again and off-again lovers, the two had been working on Mars a couple of years back and had fallen hard for one another. Sean Blackstock was a fellow intelligence agent who was working undercover in the base’s safety section.

“What are you doing up here dressed like that?” Blackstock asked as he eyed her revealing clothes.

“Sean, there isn’t a lot of time to explain. I’m not here on orders from ADF intelligence; in fact, I’m AWOL at the moment.”

“Anne, don’t say another word,” cautioned Blackstock as he dug out a small handheld scanning device from a pouch on his belt and turned it on. He moved it around for a few seconds before switching it off and placing it away.

“What was that all about?”

“This station is crawling with listening and surveillance devices. With over one hundred separate companies involved in running and maintaining Tranquility Station, industrial espionage is rife. Everyone is spying on everyone else trying to get a leg up on the next big contract the armed forces may be offering. Some of their stuff is so good that it puts the intelligence gathering community to shame. You’d be amazed where I find these bugs.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Blackstock looked deep into his former girlfriend’s eyes. “Anne, is there something wrong? Whatever it is, I’ll do what I can to help.”

For the next few minutes, she told Blackstock everything she knew about what was going on. When Elba was done, she sat back expecting her former lover to question the veracity of her story. Instead, he smiled at her and leaned forward so only she could hear his voice.

“Anne, believe it or not, we’re working on the same mission. I’ve been assigned by ADF Intelligence to work for Colonel Valens. My task is to find out if the virus is hidden somewhere on this station, and if so, to secure it until the biological warfare team can arrive to take possession of it.”

“Any luck?”

Blackstock shook his head. “Considering the size of this station, you could have one hundred men searching night and day and never turn up the virus. I’m going with the assumption that if it’s here, it is hidden somewhere in the lower decks. With all of the warehouses and maintenance facilities down there, you could easily hide the suitcase containing the virus and no one would be the wiser.”

“My God, this is worse than looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“The only thing I have going for me is that I was given the electronic signature emitted by the anti-tampering device on the container,” explained Blackstock, holding up his scanner. “If it’s within fifty meters, this baby will light up like a Christmas tree.”

“Don’t people find it odd when they see you waving your scanner all around?”

“Nope. If anyone asks, I tell them that I’m a health and safety inspector and I’m checking the air quality throughout the station.”

“Good one.”

“I thought so.”

“Sean, you’re not going to inform headquarters that I’m up here, are you?”

Blackstock grinned. “Why would I do that? Chances are you and your mates are going to find it long before I do. Now, I have to get back to work. Do you mind if I meet with you and your colleagues at twenty-one hundred hours?”

“I’m sure they’d be pleased to meet you.”

Blackstock stood up and walked out of the bar. Elba watched him go and found herself wondering how it would be if they picked up where their romance had ended. She shook her head and slipped out from behind her table. It was time for her to get back to work. She waved at the bartender and pretended to stagger toward a couple of men who had just entered the bar.

Three floors above, a bored security technician looked up at the screen on the wall in front of him. On it was two dozen images from the station’s security cameras that covered the walkways leading to the loading docks. He watched as the installation’s facial recognition database checked each person as they walked by. It was mind-numbingly dull work. The only consolation as far as the man was concerned was that he was paid well and no one bothered him while he worked. He was about to reach for a cup of coffee on his desk when someone chatting with a couple of men caught his eye. He made sure none of the other men in the office was watching him before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a small tablet. With the press of a button, he brought up pictures of both Sheridan and Cole from their military files. He studied images for a few seconds before deciding that he had found one of the men he had been told to find.

With his heart racing in his chest, the technician reached for his phone and dialed a number. It rang only once.

“Yes,” said Harry Williams on the other end of the line.

“Mister Williams, I’ve found one of them,” said the Chosen operative.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I checked his face against the picture you gave us. I’m positive that Master Sergeant Alan Cole is in Number Three walkway heading for the loading bay.”

Williams’ voice grew excited. “Can you track him wherever he goes without drawing too much attention to yourself?”

“Piece of cake. My boss never comes around to see what I’m doing.”

“Good, follow Cole and no matter what you do, don’t lose him. He’ll lead us to Sheridan. I’ll call Bill and have him deal with these irritants.”

The man hung up the phone and brought up all of the cameras in his assigned area of responsibility, scrolling through them until he once more found Cole. “Got you, you son of a bitch,” said the insurgent as he started to track Cole while he went about his business unaware that he was now being hunted.

Chapter 20

“How long until we dock?” Wagner asked Solari without lifting his head up from a report he was reading.

“Thirteen minutes, sir,” she replied, trying her best to mask her growing contempt for the man. Just before they were to board the shuttle to the station, General Sadir had been requested to remain behind by the federation president. He wanted him to be on hand to help conduct media interviews right after the evening’s scheduled debates which began at nineteen hundred hours and would run for two hours. Wagner was stuck doing the morale tour all by himself.

“I hate these things,” spouted Wagner. “Why civilians need to hear us telling them they are doing a good job is beyond me. I’d also like to know which fool thought it would be a good idea to to do this while the first presidential debate is going on. People should be watching that rather than listening to a speech no one will remember five minutes after it is given.”

Solari nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, I hope the people on the station have everything in order. I want to be back on the shuttle no later than twenty-one hundred hours.”

“Sir, the base commander, Colonel Rutland, assured me that the visit will not take more than the allotted time of two hours.”

“Better not or he’ll have to answer to me.”

Solari didn’t respond. She sat back in her chair and resisted the urge to tell him that he’d never be leaving the installation alive, but that would have spoiled the surprise. A light flashed on her watch. She looked down and saw a coded message from Williams. She opened the email and smiled. Down on Earth, the first phase of their worldwide operation was about to begin. If all went to plan, in the next twenty-four hours the humans would be brought to their knees and she would see her plan come to fruition.

In the dark, on Dorset Island, a pair of ten-wheeled transport vehicles drove through the blowing snow. The lead vehicle’s headlights barely penetrated the wall of snow falling on the barren countryside.

In the first vehicle’s crew cab sat the driver and a man with short black hair and a stern-looking face. His cognac-brown eyes peered into the storm looking for a sign that they were on the right trail. Clenched tight in his hands was a military-issue assault rifle. He wore an all-white parka and matching pants.
 

“Don’t fret so much,” said the driver as he tapped the GPS built into the vehicle’s dashboard. “It could be pitch-black outside. As long as my GPS working I can get you anywhere you want to go.”
 

“Just get me to the base on time,” replied the black-haired man. The man’s accent was Brazilian. In the back of the two vehicles were twenty men armed and dressed identically to the man in the cab.

Less than a minute later, the driver pointed to a sign on the side of the road plastered with fresh snow. “See, Miguel, I told you I’d get you here.”